


I Built A Glass Castle on a Pillar of Sand

by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap



Series: So What If I’m A Monster That’s Been Here All Along? [1]
Category: Avengers, Black Panther - Fandom, Captain America, Dr Strange - Fandom, Guardians of the Galaxy - Fandom, Thor - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Like really slow, Long as hell, M/M, MJ is a hero, MJ is an activist, More characters, Other, Post Infinity War, Shuri Is a Good Bro, Shuri Ned MJ and Peter, Slow Burn, So is Ned, and Shuri, be prepared, bro this is a friend group, but only the ones I want, infinity war fix-it, like every female in the MCU, like too many to count, sad!Thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap/pseuds/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap
Summary: "I got dried chocolate in my vagina, think I can get Thor to lick it out?"Nebula stared at Darcy, still munching her pop tart."I would like to say, it was totally Tony's fault."ORNebula comes back to Earth with Tony, and in the matter of six months decides she wants to break the world.





	1. Welcome to Dystopia! Do you want a Martini?

Humans are fucking weird.

 

Nebula guessed the way Quill turned out technically can't be blamed solely on his personal assholishness, but the fact that terra is brimming with dicks. 

(Not that she was trying to think of Quill, and his horrified expression at what father did to Gamora, just like his expression as he was blown away in the wind, but it's not liked Nebula cared because she most certainly wasn't paying attention)

How do humans get anything done amidst all the rebellion and civil warfare? How are they alive if they seem to care more about lower tax rates than being able to operate a simple handheld plasma blaster?

(Nebula supposed she couldn't be too rough on a planet in which has one type of person and that is imbecile)

Only, Nebula has only been exposed to a handful of Terrans, and the only one she would even think about saving was that over-eager cosplayer kid in the metal pajamas.

(He was a warrior, Nebula understands that but can't grace him that title, because he may be willing to fight, but she was him only a short number of years ago and she knows they were both just kids in a world of war they knew nothing about)

Surprisingly, the Terran lost about ninety-nine percent of his assholishness when the boy faded in his arms.

(Nebula heart wrenched at the boys cries, she could only wonder what the people that knew the kid long than an hour felt)

Her metal arm was spasming, her fath-Thanos, unsurprisingly, didn't put her back together properly.

(She was still broken when he ripped her apart yet again, escalating to the point where not okay is her new normal, in a cycle of barely forgiving and gracing that psychopath with the name father. Not anymore, Gamora was Nebulas buoy, and now Nebulas stuck floating, until the strong oceanic waters finally succeed and she succumbs to the mercy of the waves)

And now she has an injured Terran stuck on a dystopian planet. 

Great.

_____________________________________

The terrans name is Tony Stark.

Nebula wondered if that name held any meaning, did Stark have a brother, sister, a spouse?

She didn't wonder about a son, she saw him in battle today, saw him falling into hardly visible molecules. 

Nebula knew they weren't actually related, they had completely different genes. But Nebula was there on Ego, on the ship after, when Qu-Peter brought up the body of Yondu the ravager, the asshole that save Peter. Saved her.

(The man that clung to the Captains body wasn't Quill, the cocky, charismatic, dick who is the hardest times pulled half-baked plans out of his ass and then still got paid while nabbing a little extra. This was Peter, nothing more than a child, stuck in a stasis of being too young and too old at the same time)

Tony Stark may have not been the father, but he was sure as hell his daddy.

Nebula could respect that, so she tried being civil.

"You need anything?"

It was a stupid question to ask him, because like her he needed a lot of things he couldn't reach, but Nebula needed something to show him not to limp away and die on this planet. She didn't think she couldn't stand being alone.

(God, she was alone a lot, wasn't she? She almost wanted to laugh because she thought she liked being alone with no one to hurt her, but she didn't. And then she wanted to sob because now Gamoras gone so she truly is stuck by herself if she fucks this up)

Thankfully, Stark laughed. Not a good laugh, not like he would laugh at the kids jokes, but like a desperate man needing to do something, anything, even if was something as worthless as laughing.

"I could use a Martini, or seven."

There was a heavy cloud of silence, all she could hear is the sound of herself breathing.

(Nebula realized she wasn't breathing air but Quills ashes, and suddenly wished her lungs were robotic too)

They must of sat like that for hours-or maybe it was just a couple seconds, times started to blur together along with Nebulas vision- with only the setting of one of the suns that disturbed the picture.

Suddenly, a hot spike of pain shot through Nebulas core, while a meek, pathetic sound betrayed her by slipping through her tight lips.

She's hoped Stark didn't hear.

He did.

Of course he did.

Starks eyes flashed up in an instant, scanning her roboticly to try and locate her injuries.

"Your hurt."

I wasn't a question, but a hard worn fact that she couldn't hide if she tried.

"I can't fix it, so there's no use trying."

His eyes got to her arms, and he frowned at her metal arm while it twitch and jerked, quietly out of control. Stark figures out what's wrong.

"I can fix you."

"You can't, there isn't anything here to fix it with!"

"Earth has the right supplies."

That's how Nebula found herself herded onto Quills garbage ship, taking off, and being swallowed by the stars, about to start chasing comets on the way to Earth.

Humans are fucking weird, Nebula sticks by that opinion.

But maybe, just maybe, there a little less assholic than Nebula first assumed.

That is until Tony made a lewd Terran joke about A Stripper, A Barber, and Blake Sheltons bar.

Nebula is going to die on Terra.


	2. An Ode to The Death of the Pumpkin Spice Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Darcy wanted was her Pumpkin Spice Latte, was it really too much too ask?

When the Great Dusting of The Entire Universe happened, Darcy only wanted a Pumpkin Spice Latte.

She almost got it too, the barista was halfway through calling the name of her order ("Pumpkin Spice Latte for a Sexier than Thou?" Never let it be said that Darcy isn't a trolling queen) when the girl suddenly disintegrated, her ashes falling on the floor with her coffee.

To be honest? Darcy was more pissed about the latte than half the universe turning into ash. 

(In her defense, she didn't really know what was happening for another week, and even then she wasn't entirely sure who the hell Thanos is)

As soon as she took a tentative step outside into New York City, where she and Jane currently had a hotel room booked for a press conference on the disturbance in the visible star system of where Asgard is predicted to be. Darcy bets that it's just their equipment, but they said that one of the NASA satellites intercepted a plea message with an accented voice that suspiciously sounded like Loki, so she guessed they might be on to something.

Unlike what the general would think, Thor and Jane are actually on speaking terms. Their relationship didn't fail because of a disagreement, or someone cheating, the break up was because neither of them could handle a distance relationship.

How utterly boring.

Always, Darcy's futile hope that the barista and half of the Starbucks customers just decided to remake a Queen music video was quickly dashed.

The street was flooded with the weird hippie dust, men, woman, and children screaming. Darcy wondered what it was until-

Oh my God, Darcy gasped, her lung filling with the dust and she instantly coughed it out.

That Weird Hippie Dust was a corpse.

Darcy's standing in a Massacre.

She's standing in a graveyard. 

Then her train of though halted.

Jane.

Is Jane okay? Is she even alive?

What if Jane is dead? What if-

No.

Darcy can't afford to think about that, she can't afford to ponder the what ifs and the maybes.

She can only afford to run toward the Hilton Midtown, through Central Park, run numbly through the mobbing crowd of people.

She can only afford to think of Jane.

Finally, she reached the grand doors, bars to the prison, the only barrier between her and Jane, the only stop-

Darcy suddenly stopped and laughed, because this is Jane Foster, and Jane Foster would never let something as simple as cosmic, alien power deter her from her research. 

Darcy calmed, and took the elevator up to their shared third floor suite.

She did everything as she always did walking into her and Janes hotel room, followed the patterned to the last step, as if that will assure Jane Foster was sitting on the couch, shoveling Subway salad into her mouth.

Darcy didn't know why she did it, because this was Jane Foster, and Jane Foster could not die because of some cosmic assholes new dusting technique.

When she would open the door, Jane Foster will be there to groan at her lewd jokes and argue with her about the health benefits of Lucky Charms.

Darcy opened the door.

The suite was silent, but Jane could just be engrossed in her presentation for the press conference they both will be attending because neither of them are dust.

Darcy slipped off her Lazy Slippers, and briskly started her way to Janes study.

She stepped in something.

She stepped in dust.

No. No. No.

It couldn't be true.

But it was, the logical side of Darcy's brain argued, Jane isn't here, she is there.

Darcy sobbed.

She just stepped in her best friends corpse.

Her voice joined in a choir of millions, a harmonized symphony of sobbing and screaming.

Because Jane Foster was Alive.

 

Until she wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so! Hi guys! I finally got a plot so yay! This is going to be long, so enjoy!
> 
> ALSO! This is unbetaed so ANY comments on some editing I missed are greatly appreciated!


	3. "Oh, hello, the world got dusted?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ just wishes that she was more like Aunt Carmine

Michelle held small admiration for people.

The hate, the racism, the disagreement on being decent people killed any faith or admiration that managed to bloom in the constant overcast is her brain.

People say she's a pessimist.

But she knows it's not true, one of the five people she held admiration for told her it wasn't.

Michelle was a brutal realist, she'd rather hear fact over fiction, she would rather know what's happening than paint pictures of flowers playing duck duck goose.

She's not high.

She's realistic.

Like aunt Carmine.

Carmine Jones is one of the few people she admires. A social rights activist, engaged to her college sweetheart, who knew exactly what she wanted, and knew she wanted it yesterday. 

Michelle begrudgingly admires four other people.

Black Widow

Colonel Rhodes

And much to her great chagrin, the nerds

Ned Leeds and Peter Parker.

She hates to admit it, but those two were near her Aunt in admiration status. Even if they can't keep a secret.

Honestly, it's like they think she's stupid.

She knows Peter's Spider-man, she knows Ned helps him, and she learned that they suck at lying.

Seriously, they come up with some weird shit. She has a notebook full of Weirds Excuses That Actually Worked. 

But that doesn't matter, because she knows Parker faded.

She knows about how he got on a ship and flew to space with Tony Stark.

And she would never admit it in words, but she was pretty fucking worried for the looser.

Like, she knows Parker and take care of himself, but her emotions had different ideas.

It's weird being friends with a superhero.

But it's painful when you've sat in you and your parents apartment waiting for him to save you but you know he can't.

Her parents dusted. Together.

All that's left of them is are three day old piles of dust, sitting in their chairs with rotting cream cheese bagels on the stupid paper plates.

The stupid paper plates that survives while her parents didn't.

She hasn't left the apartment in three days.

She goes to the ever shrinking food supply in her fridge, eats enough to live, uses the bathroom on the other side of the kitchen, and sits back down in her chair. Like they were eating bagels for dinner again because her dad forgot to pick up pasta. She sits there like it's normal.

But it's not, because her dad is most certainly not a paper plate. 

Stupid paper plate.

She has twenty-seven misses calls from Ned Leeds.

She could make it twenty-eight.

But she doesn't.

Her fingers shaking from the stiffness of not moving, her voice raspy with disuse, she pressed accept call.

"Hello?"

"MJ! Your alive! Or not dusted, are they actually dead? But you answered! Oh God, MJ, half the world has turned into dust."

He sobbed pathetically, but she was in too much shook to care. 

Half the world has dusted.

Half the world is like her parents.

Where are the Avengers?

Where is the Black Widow, colonel Rhodes?

Where are her heroes?

"Uhh, MJ, hello? You okay?"

MJ realized she'd been staring at her table for too long, zoned out.

MJ decided that she ought to become more like her aunt, fighting an uphill battle for what's right at every step because it's worth fighting for.

MJ decided that saving is something worth fighting for.

(And if she did it a little for Peter, no one would ever know)

"Hey Ned," she started, "any chance you know how to hack a city security system?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, small chapter, but it's not a filler, it's a set up. Ned's POV next friends! And agin, any errors, feel free to comment because I don't have a beta! Anyways, Ned will hopefully be posted by tomorrow! Also, yes, I am using OC's to help establish a backstory for some of these characters, and I think I have a, not fun, but interesting backstory for Carmine and MJ.


	4. Death of A Sandwich Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned, the hacking king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter but mighty, let's start the revolution, shall we!

Ned Leeds can hack a great number of things.

School computers, Peter's iPhone, Flash's wifi, the Pentagon (don't ask, it's a loooooong story) and Tony Starks design of the Spidey Suit.

He's almost offended at MJ's little faith in his mad computer skills.

But he guessed she just lost her parents and was still in shock.

(A little bitter voice that Ned doesn't listen to tells him that The Great Dusting happened three days ago and that Ned had lost his mom too, but he squashed that little voice trying to kill his friendship)

Ned was nice like that.

So when MJ asked "can you hack the cities security system?"

Well, Ned kept his cool, and answered with a hesitant yes.

After all, this was MJ he was talking about.

MJ could make New York City absolute hell if she put her mind to it.

Ned wanted to avoid that.

_________________________________

Turns out, MJ had a plan to save the world.

It involves Ned, Ned's killer hacking skills, and a wizard.

(None of them mentioned that Peter would've loved meeting a real life wizard, because Peter was gone and they couldn't change it)

And to start the plan, Ned had to actually get to MJ's house from his neighbors apartment. On a normal day it would be painful to get to MJ's.

This is not a normal day.

This is hell.

New York was filled with broken people and empty skyscrapers.

Could Ned even handle walking through the city, his city, when the streets are overflowing with dust blowing around in the air?

He'd have to.

To save they world, Ned would have to suck it up and walk.

It wouldn't be that hard, right?

__________________________________

Ned was wrong.

Ned was so damn wrong is was laughable.

Ned was not at all ready to see the remnants of his broken culture.

His broken City.

New York was a ghost town.

It was a ghost town as he walked down the street, past the ATM and subway stop, and past the school.

(He chose to ignore the fact the the shop was empty, the shop where he first met Peter. It make sense that the shop would fade with his best friend)

Hell was ironic like that.

Hell was also ironic by having him walk straight into a woman with a cardboard pull-ups box.

"Excuse me," the woman said, "do me a favor get the hell out of my way."


	6. Lost Cities, Ghost Towns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, ok! I apologize for updating later than I expected! But that’s ok! (No it’s not, but whatever) dialogue is hard, and the plot is really slow moving. Seriously, we are going to get to Wakanda........Someday.

Darcy wasn't planning on putting Jane's weird Hippie Dust in a pull-ups box.

It kinda just.... happened.

 

She had to leave the hotel room.

She had to be anywhere but that hotel room.

But she couldn't just leave Jane.

So Darcy walked downstairs towards the dusty receptionists desk, opened the weird door that attached to the desk, to go find a box.

There was an unplanned parent convention happening at the hotel. Pull-ups was sponsoring it, and providing all diapers/pull-ups. 

Perfect.  
__________________________________

Darcy and Jane were back in the city.

(Darcy chose to ignore that it was technically her and Jane's corpse out in the city, because that was creepy. And Darcy was NOT creepy)

After an hour of walking, dodging car wrecks, and avoided stepping in the Weird Hippie Dust Corpses, she ran into someone.

Darcy wasn't in the best of mood, so when she ran into this scared baby-faced teenager, she wasn't very polite. Or civil, or graced graced the kid with anything but annoyance.

Darcy deserved a break.

A long break with no baby faced teenagers running into her in front of a sandwich stop in Queens.

So it was rude, but what she said to the kid was, "Excuse me, do me a favor and get the hell out of my way."

In her defense, the kid looked scared enough that as soon as she opened her mouth, he looked like he just had a stroke.

So when he didn’t get the hell out of her way, Darcy was confused.

And pissed.

But mostly confused.

“I’m, I’m sorry mam. But I can’t do that.”

“Now that’s a problem.”

“My-my friend. She thinks she knows how to, not fix, but start, fixing this mess.”

Well damn.

Darcy’s original plan was to just wander the remnants of New York, and wait until she ran into the expected arrival of the Avengers.

Instead, she ran into Mr. Babyface, and he says he can save the world.

During her shock, the kid had somehow gotten around her, and was walking away.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Grumbled Darcy, as she ran to catch up with the kid, tapped his shoulder, and said:

“I think I can help.”


	7. Let Me Save You, Blessed Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young woman sat in the dark, salty tears sat dried on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! So! This is a series now, I got a whole bunch of stories just lined up.
> 
> And a plot, that’s always a plus.
> 
> And an antagonist! Whoop!
> 
> This darker is a lot darker than the past ones, so......... be aware of that.

It was too loud.

The flames in the castle were too loud, too noisy as they crackled on their obsidian torches, their hellish blue glow spun with the flames.

The Man liked it that way.

He liked his castle loud, the crackle of flames, so foreign in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, one would’ve thought the castle was a bomb range.

The Man supposed it was cruel, but The Man wasn’t well know for his niceties.

The rest of the planet fit with the castle, the vast wasteland, black and burned, held shelter to only The Man.

And his prisoners, but The Man usually chose to forget them.

They didn’t last very long anyway.

But, he had a time of day, fifteen glorious minutes, where keeping them on the planet was worth the risk, and the inconvenience.

He looks forwards to those times, where the flames, bombs in their own right, interwove in a symphony with the high pitched screams of the prisoners, an intricate dance of wailing and crackling that was beautiful music to The Mans ears. 

Even with them, The Man was bored. A justice bringer in his own mind, who was stranded alone on an island of misery, his only playthings are poor souls that must be saved. So he saves them.

The Man is heroic like that.

Currently, in his cold, metallic dungeon, a young woman was weeping behind thick, steel bars.

The Man was going to save this woman, he was sure of it.

She was Terran, the drowning planet of war and sinners.

It was on the top of The Mans list of places to be purified.

The girls eyes were wet as she plead, her words gargling with blood and tears.

“Pl-please, please, please”

“Oh, my dear child, why are you pleading? Can’t you see? I’m going to save you.”

The Man harshly grabbed the woman pale chin, her blue eyes and porcelain skin, both swimming in a river of tears. 

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, child!

“I suppose, you should understand the hell your world that drug you through. Terra is a demonic world, slathered in sin, as it slaughters it’s citizens and discriminates difference. It’s a world with dreams to be full of clones. So I must bathe it in holy water, and save its people. I’m saving you child, be grateful.”

The Man paused in his monologue, his dark eyebrows furrowing on a shadowed face.

“I guess some of my work has been completed by Thanos,” he mused, “but he is a fool. Never be like him child, I can’t triply bathe Terra in the holy water it so desperately needs if it goes and keeps getting mud on its shin, can I? Thanos is dirt, I respect his actions, not his goals. If only he could’ve save all the children, instead of only half.....”

The woman was openly sobbing, her blood and tears painting her face in a salty masterpiece of pain.

I will save you.

The man pulled out a wickedly sharp sword, it’s end dyed crimson.

Let me save you.

The Man always enjoyed the sound of metal on flesh, always enjoyed the metallic fumes of a soul saved.

Bless you, my dear child.

The Man cleaned up, carefully carrying the vessel of sin to the pile.

Thousands upon thousands of vessel sat, stacked in the glory of peace.

You have been saved, my blessed child.


	8. Wongs Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrive the Wizards!
> 
> And, you know, MJ’s plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> (Is that weird? Maybe? Ok)
> 
> So Friends, I have updated twice today! (#LifeGoals)
> 
> After the darker last chapter, welcome back to Earh, and the plot is finally moving! (Although slowly, so, so, slowly)

Wong has had a bad week.

A terrible, horrifying, week.

Like, he knew that the Sanctum Sanctorum wasn’t by any means rich, per se. Being in the field of mystic arts didn’t pay that well.

But, he always assumed that they were financially stable.

Boy was he wrong. He and Stephen, were goddamn bankrupt.

And just, just, when he was about figure out how to get himself a sandwich, the Incredible Hulk crashed through the ceiling.

(He knew what the Avengers were, and it was in Wong’s personal opinion that they should stop fucking meddling with magic, they are in way over their heads)

If not to top it off, he uttered the dreaded words, he hopes to go for years without hearing:

“Thanos is coming!” 

And that was only an hour.

So him and Stephan went to save the world. Again.

Except, this time it wasn’t sorcerers, wasn’t anything mystic. The problem was a terrifying, seven-foot, purple, alien, who sent his lackeys to New York.

It wasn’t impossible to beat them, but it was hard.

Very hard.

Even with Spider-Kid and the Billionaire.

(Wong knew that he deserves more credit, but he was petty enough to not grace Tong Stark with a name)

The only positive thing that came out of it was that he was now invited to the Billionaires wedding.

But that might not even be happening, because Stephan got captured by the wrinkly alien, and Stephan, the Billionaire, and Spider-Kid were in space.

Wong wasn’t the most religious guy, but Goddamn.

Hulk eventually left too, this time as a man instead of a monster.

Wong was alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum, when the world burned to ash. He had flung open the doors, as the mass cremation struck, ashes flying everywhere. He knew it quickly, suddenly, like a bullet to the shoulder. 

(Not that Wong’s ever been shot, but he has been pelted with solid light fractals)

Stephan Strange wasn’t coming home.

Thanks had won

______________________________________

So even despite his crappy three days of loneliness, because the Ashing of the World must’ve taken Stephan friend that sometimes came over, the nurse, Christine, he opened the door.

Now, if the past few days never happened, he would’ve left the door sealed shut, most likely tourists that have never seen a New York door before.

(Tourists are stupid, and nobody could change Wongs mind)

But, he opened the door to two teenagers and a lady with a Pull-Ups box, obviously in mid conversation, he really didn’t know what to expect.

“This was your plan MJ! We’ve knocked on the door, what do we do now?”

“Shut up stupid, let me get my shit in order.”

“Umm, Ned, Michelle, you don’t really have time to get your shit together, look.”

They all looked up at him, this “MJ” character, the obvious leader, looked at him with such a determined and intense look in her eyes, he opened the door wider. 

“Excuse me, but are you Wong?”

————————————————

Wong didn’t want to know how she knew this much.

MJ-“call me Michelle, jackass. Only my friends can call me MJ”- explained her mostly solid plan.

Step one) find Wong. Check

Step two) use the magic portals to get to Wakanda, and be default, the Avengers to ask for help.That ones not so easy.

First thing: The Avengers might not even be in Wakanda, or alive.

Second thing: the Avengers night not even want to help.

But if there is one thing Wong could admire about Michelle, it’s that she’s a stubborn asshole who’s almost as bad as Stephan.

(Not that he’s thinking of his, that is a wound that he doesn’t need salted)

The other teenager-Ned-and the Pull-Ups lady-“Potter, call me Darcy”-we’re still kind of lost.

(Not that Wong could blame them, because he was lost too, and drowning, and suffocating all at the same time)

So, Wong ended up on a grassy foothill under the blistering African Sun.

And all he could do was add another event to his week of hell.


	9. Mommy, I saw a bunch of ladies with swords!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok ok, so this is a short boi. Ok, a short, short boi that does not deserve the amount of writers block on it. But it’s here, so fucking enjoy.

MJ was fairly sure her aunt was going to throttle her. Now, it never came up in conversation before, but she was pretty sure standing in a third-world, technological advanced, African country was against the Don’t Leave Queens Without Permission rule.

Well, there wasn’t any taking it back, the sun was already beating down on her skin. Ned and Darcey and Wong beside her, she has to save the world.

Easy right?

Not so much, because she’s lost with a wizard in Africa.

If the situation weren’t so dire, she would think that would make an awfully hilarious joke.

So, an activist, a teenager, and a wizard all got lost in Africa.......

It would be killer at open mics.

But all she had to do was close her eyes, watch the world erupt into dust, and there would be no open mics for her. Only her parents.

She’s here to save her parents.

(And Peter, but she wouldn’t admit that, never. It’s a secret that shall be kept until her dying breath)

The clear Wakandan skyline was calling, it’s forested jungle urging them to continue their quest.

——————————————-

MJ was surprised at what she saw.

She didn’t exactly know what she was expecting when she came across the first grassy clearing she’d seen in a couple hours, but a broken battle field was not in her top ten. Or top thirty.

(She would say she didn’t think of it at all, but MJ is a realistic teenager that realize long ago the world got fucked up and she might as well just go with it)

But a battle it must’ve been, trees smashed back too the blood stained earth, Spears and swords rooted like plants in the hellish garden. Aliens ships, human ships, Wakandan ships, a graveyard of advanced technology. But that’s no the staple, not the centerpiece to this hell.

It was the dust.

(The sane dust that choked in her New York, never to move except for the wind. Like Peters dust, like her parents dust, who just fell and she was there and she-No, MJ couldn’t fall down that rabbit hole, not now, not for a long time)

“Oh My God” MJ looked at Ned, his chubby cheeks and childlike face twisted in utter horror, like a masterpiece covered in a drying coat of tears.

Darcy’s face, on the other hand, was one of confusion. That’s weird, thought MJ, why would her face be-

Oh

Oh God.

A colorful stampede of red and brown advanced on them with terrifying speed, their swiftness a staple to their strength.

———————————————

Fun Fact: the phrase “hit like a girl” is now one of MJ’s favorite and most hated phrases.

Because these women hit like girls, and that was badass. Even if was just the air, MJ thought she could feel the pain of a thousand vibrainum spears hitting her body, and it hurt.

Even if was only mental.

The lady up front-the most imposing-started scanning over them and finally said in a sharp accented voice , “What are you doing in Wakanda?!”


	10. We’ll Still have Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK! 
> 
> I figured out what rich text was, so like, yay!
> 
> Also, as many of you might see, this will be a series, with the next part being Spider-Man: World Famous.
> 
> For that, I’m not going to be typing the whole story on my phone. So like, that’s yay.
> 
> And I did see the Endgame trailer. And I have died slowly, despacito my friends. Despacito.
> 
> I don’t know how much that’s going to affect the plot line, it might stay AU, (well, it’s now a fix-it, not an AU but it will become one at some point) Or I might try the multiverse.
> 
> Either way, you should comment on which one you want.
> 
> I actually love comments, I would love to see what your enjoying and what your not, and I’m lonely.
> 
> So, you should comment.
> 
> That was lame, either way, on to the chapter.

__Karma was a bitch in Steve Rogers oh so humble opinion.

 

It’s only right that after he split apart his team, split apart his friendships, that half the universe would be split apart with it.

 

He better half, split apart with it.

 

He’s man enough to admit, he would dead without Bucky Barnes, Captain America wouldn’t have been born without Bucky Barnes.

 

(Nat says he’s being too melodramatic, of course there would still be a Captain America, just not the cinnamon roll America loved.

 

 

 

Nat was weird)

 

But, as bad as karma may be to Steve Rogers, she wasn’t like that for the rest of the world.

 

So he wasn’t awfully surprised when a group of teenagers and what looked like a wizard followed Okoye back into the Wakandan Palace.

 

What he was surprised at, however, is that the kids wanted to fix the universe and came all they way to Wakanda to do it.

 

So it was heartbreaking when he had to tell the kids that they should just go home because they don’t know how to fix it.

 

So what came as shock three for today was when the twenty something, teenagers, and wizard looked like they wanted to deck him.

 

(Which, fair)

 

The teenaged girl, Michelle he thought, looked him straight in the eye and said, “We weren’t asking.”

 

————————————————-

 

They were in Shuri’s lab. It was empty and a shell because the genius teenager was nowhere to be seen. Just another victim of the dust.

 

The woman, Darcy, sent down her pull-ups box, and slowly opened the lid.

 

It was _dust_.

 

The same dust that filled his lungs in the battlefield. 

 

 

_They were winning, until they weren’t. Steve has been fighting next to Bucky, their fists striking in union, a drum in the horrifying symphony. One, two, three, the aliens were dead._

 

_He was laughing, a morbid choked laughter built off of dark humor and even darker situations. It wasn’t fine, not even close, but it wasn’t hell yet._

_He shouldn’t of thought that._

_People were well, dusting._

_One after another they fell. Groot, T’challa, Wanda._

 

_Sam._

 

_And it was only a second, a milasecond, later when he heard the gut wrenching truth._

 

_”Steve?”_

 

_And he was gone, again._

 

_like the train._

 

_like the Solider._

 

_like cyro._

 

_And he did it, he lost his friend, his better half, his Bucky once more. And after that, all he would see is a morgue._


End file.
